Memories of Hope
by gitania
Summary: Hope is a castaway with no memories of the past, until they start to come back to her through dreams of the only faces she knows - the others on the island. COMPLETE!
1. A Shot in the Dark

Author: Gitania

Email: Please review and let me know what you think. Flame me if you must, but do try to be constructive. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I invented the character of Hope and all that surrounds her, but other than that I own nothing but the disk I save this on.

Summary: Hope is a castaway with no memories of the past, until they start to come back to her through dreams of the only faces she knows – the others on the island.

Memories of Hope

Chapter 1: A Shot in the Dark

Hope woke with a start, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in her ears. She gasped and sat up, looking around to find the source of the noise. As her breathing slowed and she realised that there had been no reaction from her companions at the caves, Hope noticed a pair of dark eyes upon her.

"Hey," she whispered, moving closer to the boy. "Can't sleep?"

"Nope." Walt replied. "The ground here is too hard. What about you?"

Hope wasn't sure how to explain the gunshot, "I thought I heard a noise."

"Mr. Locke says life is full of noise, it's never really quiet. Even what we think is quiet, isn't really – there's always wind and the ocean, and stuff. Maybe it was something like that."

"Mr. Locke is a smart man." Hope replied, realising, not for the first time, the apparent depth of the older man's wisdom. "You can learn a lot from him, especially out here."

Walt looked down at the man sleeping beside him. The dad who didn't feel like a dad just yet. "I guess it depends who you ask." He said with a hint of resentment.

Hope smiled softly, and tried to explain. "Your dad cares a lot about you. He just wants you to be safe. But I can't think of anyone on this island better than Mr. Locke for teaching us all how to keep ourselves and each other safe. And sometimes you have to think for yourself, and you're probably old enough to do that now."

Walt frowned a little. "So, I shouldn't listen to my dad?"

"Hold up, I didn't say that."

"So… I shouldn't listen to Mr. Locke?" Walt was looking more and more confused, and Hope wondered if she was smart to give advice.

"Listen, Buddy. I'm not going to tell you who to listen to. You have to make your own choices. But, then you have to live with them, so try to make wise ones, okay?"

Hope smiled encouragingly at the boy, as he struggled to grow up too fast. "Okay."

Satisfied with the conversation, Hope stood and wandered further into the cave. She picked up the water bottles that stood empty in a line, and started to fill them, ready to be taken to the people still living at the beach. Even after talking to Walt about his problems, she still was not distracted from the sound of the gunshot that she had heard.

"I didn't hear a noise." Walt said, somehow aware that her thoughts were troubled. "Maybe you were dreaming or something."

"Maybe," Hope often wondered about Walt, and how lonely he must be on the island. No-one around his own age, and even his own dad seemed to overlook him. Maybe the boy had a bigger part to play, but nobody had bothered to include him.

"Hey," Hope said, causing Walt to turn and look at her. "Want to go fishing with me today? Claire and I have been sharpening sticks to use as spears, so we can try some spear-fishing. We'll have to be damn quick, and I don't know how your reflexes are, but we can see how we go. What do you think?"

"Sure." Walt agreed quickly, eager to be of some help to the group. He looked down at Michael, still sleeping beside him, "Maybe I should ask first."

"Good idea. The sun's rising anyway, the rest will be awake soon. Come help me get some water together for the beach-dwellers."


	2. Scars and Tattoos

Memories of Hope

Chapter 2: Scars and Tattoos

The sun shone mercilessly down on a strange-looking pair standing in the ocean. Walt and Hope stood side by side in silence, with their pants wet up to the knees, their sleeves rolled up to the elbows, staring intently into the water. They each held a stick, around a metre long, sharpened at one end to make a spear. Up on the sand, next to their shoes, sat an aeroplane blanket, waiting to wrap up the fish they had planned to catch that day. Currently, it was as empty as their stomachs.

"We've been here for hours!" whined Walt. "When are we going to catch some fish?"

"I guess when we acquire some accuracy." puffed Hope, still recovering from her last wade into the water to retrieve her spear. She looked over at her fishing companion and had to remind herself that he was, in truth, only a little kid. Not really known for their patience.

"Maybe we've had enough for now." Hope suggested. "I mean, we're definitely getting better, right? Getting much closer than when we started. So maybe all we need now is a bit of a break? We'll get some tomorrow. You think?"

"Sure." Walt shrugged and started wading back towards the shore. "We probably shouldn't be out in the sun so long anyway, right?"

"Right." said Hope, well aware that they were both trying to convince themselves, and each other, that they weren't really failed hunters.

"I like your tattoo," Walt said, as they pulled on their shoes and dusted the sand off the blanket.

"Thanks," Hope smiled at him. "Me too."

The small tattoo on her right wrist simply said, "HOPE", in a font she did not recognise. The tattoo was the basis of her name, and all she had left of her past. Since waking on the beach after the crash, Hope soon came to realise that she had no memories of a time before landing on the island. No faces of her family imprinted on her mind, no fears for people that would be missing her or mourning her death. No memories at all.

Jack had re-named her 'Hope', with the help of Charlie, who had joked that he was fond of such artistic things as re-naming people. Jack had said that they would need a little hope to get them all through this challenge, and she was inclined to agree. Proud to be a possible symbol of hope to the other castaways, she had taken on the name, but she had never stopped searching the dark recesses of her mind to try and find something familiar. Something that was more than sand or ocean, or the 47 faces that were the only ones she knew.

As Walt and Hope walked back towards the beach camp in search of water, she noticed that his face was scrunched up, as though debating with himself.

"What?" she questioned him. "What is it?"

"Do you ever wonder… about the crash? I mean, maybe you… Maybe you weren't by yourself. Don't you wish you were like everyone else?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "sometimes I wonder. It's kind of sad to me that I may have lost someone I love in the crash, but I can't remember enough to mourn them. But I guess that for now, that helps me to be strong. Everyone here is kind of haunted by the past – maybe everyone else wishes they were like me."

"That's stupid. I wouldn't want to forget. Even the bad stuff I wouldn't want to forget. I like to remember my mom, even though it's sad that she's not around anymore. Plus, if we don't remember, how can we learn from what we've done wrong?"

Hope smiled at the child, "You're right, we can't. You know, you're something else!" She laughed in disbelief. "Does your dad know you're so smart?"

Walt looked sad and glued his eyes to the sand as they walked, "My dad doesn't know much about me. He's too busy now. I guess he was always too busy."

"Well," Hope said gently, "maybe he just needs some help to learn from what he's done wrong. Not everyone can figure out for themselves how to make things right. 'You're never too old to ask for help, and never too young to offer it'." she quoted.

Walt smiled. "Smart. Who taught you that?"

Hope ran her mind over the shadowed faces in her memory. "I don't know." she said quietly.


	3. Dream a Little Dream

Memories of Hope

Chapter 3: Dream a Little Dream

"Are you sleeping okay?" Jack asked as he shuffled around her. He was finishing Hope's check-up, and was obviously none too impressed with not finding anything out of place.

Hope thought of the past five mornings since her first fishing day with Walt, waking abruptly to the sound of the same gunshot ricocheting around in her mind. "Not really…" she debated with herself for a moment, and decided to confide in the Doctor. "I've been having these dreams."

Jack looked up from where he seemed to be observing her breathing. Concern flashed across his eyes, "What kind of dreams?"

"Well, not even dreams, really. More like dream fragments. I just hear a gunshot. It's so loud that it wakes me up, usually an hour or so before dawn, but I can never remember what happens before the shot."

"Any memories yet?" asked Jack.

Hope shook her head sadly, thinking of the dark shadows in her mind. Like pictures that weren't complete, she had only the outlines of people and places.

Jack frowned a little, and then changed his expression consciously to promising, "Give it time." he said, following the old familiar script of their check-ups, "When you're ready, I think you'll remember." He paused, thinking of a prescription for the patient. "Maybe I can dig up some sleeping pills for you. Just to help you get back on your feet. No offence, but you're not looking your best lately."

Hope laughed gently at her friend, "Gee, thanks Doc. I bet you're a whiz with the ladies!"

Jack smiled back, and continued in what the castaways had begun to refer to as his 'Doctor voice'. "Look, nothing's happening around here right now, and I don't expect Locke and Sayid to be back with more meat for a while. Maybe you should try and get some rest." he suggested.

"It's the middle of the afternoon." Hope objected.

"It would do you good." The Doctor persisted, and Hope knew she was fighting a losing battle – that concerned face would melt anyone. "And keep drinking water – I'm not too sure about all the time you and Walt are spending on your spear-fishing lately. You guys have to be careful of dehydration and sun stroke."

Hope took her verbal prescription, and moved into a lying position. "Yeah, okay."

As Jack turned to leave her alone in the caves, Hope called out to him.

"We're getting way better, you know. We'll catch something any day now – count on it."

"Can't wait." Jack said truthfully, "Boar's great for keeping us all alive, but I could really go for a change of meats."

"Me too." Hope smiled, "Don't worry, Walt and I have got it covered."

Jack left her in the cool quiet of the cave, and Hope tried in vain to find a comfortable position on the hard ground. Despite herself, she soon drifted into a fitful sleep, only to be accosted by the same familiar dream.

The bullet moved slowly and soundlessly from the gun, and Hope could see the smoke rise from the barrel. She watched as the deadly piece of metal tore through the air, crossing a backdrop of photos on a living room wall. The room fell into shadow, and Hope finally heard the menacing sound of the gunshot as a female figure fell unceremoniously to the floor.

Hope woke with a small cry, to find a large, shadowed figure standing over her. She watched as he held out a hand, and leaned down so she could see his face.

"I am sorry." Sayid apologised, and put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "I did not mean to startle you."

"It's okay," Hope said breathlessly. "I seem to be easily startled lately." She smiled at him, and raised her eyebrows in question. "Were you looking for me, or was startling me just a bonus?"

"Jack asked me to come and find you. Locke and I have returned," he smiled in an embarrassed way and gestured to himself, "obviously. We have brought more food. Hungry?"

"Sure." Hope smiled in reassurance – Sayid had Jack's famous concerned expression. "I'm okay," she said, before he asked, "just a bad dream, I guess."

Sayid helped her up, and Hope slashed her face with water before following him out of the caves. She knew Jack would be curious to hear if she had had her dream again, and Hope wasn't yet sure if she wanted to disclose the new details. She had felt a terrible loss when the woman in her dream fell, and she wondered for a moment if Jack was right – perhaps her memories were returning. Somehow this didn't fill her with the joy she had expected. What if Walt was wrong, and she would be happy not to remember?


	4. Gift of Possibility

Author's Note: This chapter is for Saraiyu, who convinced me there should be more Boone in this story. Hope you like it!

Memories of Hope

Chapter 4: Gift of Possibility

"You seem distracted." Sayid observed gently as he and Hope were finishing their evening meal, provided by Locke and himself.

"I'm sorry." Hope smiled apologetically, "I'm probably not the best company right now."

"You're fine," Sayid assured her with a smile, "but if there's something on your mind, perhaps it would help for you to talk about it…"

Sayid let his comment hang in the air, and Hope gave it some quick thought. But how could she possibly explain her dream when she didn't yet have it figured out herself?

She gratefully declined, "Thanks, Sayid, but I really wouldn't know what to say. But I promise I'll keep you in mind as my choice applicant for the role of listener. You seem like you've had lots of experience." Hope gave him a small smile, and stood, ending the conversation. "I think I'm going to head to the beach for a walk – you're right, I am distracted, and I should really clear my head before we all settle down to sleep."

Sayid nodded his agreement as he watched her head off on the path towards the beach, before looking around for Jack. Perhaps he would have some idea what was on Hope's mind.

Hope wandered slowly through the trees, feeling her feet sink gently into the sand when she reached the beach. The sun was setting beautifully, and Hope could see the outline of people around the beach camp. She turned to her left, away from the others, and headed out to the water.

She was ankle-deep in the surf, and a short run from the beach camp when Hope heard the steady breathing of a runner behind her. He was running slowly towards her, holding a thick, spiral bound book, lifting his head and eyebrows slightly in acknowledgment as he caught her eye.

"Hey," Boone greeted, slowing as he reached her. "I'm glad I caught you."

Hope wondered briefly if she was needed at camp, but was put at ease by his calm smile. He changed his gait, and walked in step with her. Hope realised that she was to have a walking companion.

"Was there something you needed?" Hope wasn't quite sure why everyone thought she needed so much company lately.

Boone started slightly, torn from his own thoughts, "I'm sorry. Did you want to be alone? I didn't mean to…"

"No." Hope cut him off before he could backtrack too far, smiling her reassurance. "It's just that you said you were glad to catch me. I kind of thought that meant you needed me for something."

"Well, yeah." He held out the book, smiling like the Cheshire Cat in a film Hope could barely recall. Hope reached out to take the book, not quite sure what the gift meant.

"It's a book," she stated, hoping Boone would fill in the blanks in her understanding.

"It's a notebook," he said, still smiling. "For writing in."

"So it is," Hope acknowledged, flipping through the pages and finding them all blank, and a little warped as though they had been wet and then dried out. She looked at Boone, who was looking more proud of himself than she had ever seem him, and she feared that she had missed something very obvious about the situation they were in.

"I'm sorry." Hope stopped walking and turned to face him. "Boone, I don't get it." she admitted. "I mean, you're looking at me like I should know why a notebook is so great, but I don't, and I'm kind of lost, here. Could you give me a clue, maybe?"

Boone's smile faded, and was replaced by a look of understanding. "You don't remember anything before when?"

"Before waking up on the beach. Why? I still don't get it." Hope laughed at her own confusion in an attempt to dissipate her growing irritation with herself, waiting for Boone to help her out.

Boone sighed, and started to walk slowly again as he explained. "I saw you on the plane. You were sitting next to an empty seat, with some old guy on the other side of it. Shannon and I were a few rows behind you, and sort of diagonal, so I could see you sitting on the aisle."

If ever Boone had had Hope's attention, he had it now. Anything she could learn about herself from before the crash was something she wanted to know, even if it was from as recent as the flight.

"Anyway," Boone continued, "you were writing like crazy. You had a huge book and you just kept writing and writing. I walked past you once, and had a look – it was like a diary. Pages and pages of what was happening on the plane, observations on people, your thoughts – all kinds of stuff. I thought maybe you could remember some of you past if you started writing again. You know, like, maybe it's in your muscle memory or something."

Hope was touched by the gesture. Boone wasn't just giving her a notebook; he was trying to give her back her memories.

"Maybe it's stupid," he said. "But I found it while I was exploring some new parts of the jungle with Charlie and Hurley, and I thought you might like it." Boone looked at her for the first time since the beginning of his explanation, and Hope stopped walking again to look at him.

She smiled widely, her first true smile in days, and reached up to hug him. "Thankyou," she said softly into his shoulder, "This is great."

Boone hugged her tight, and reluctantly let her go. "I'm glad you like it."

"I do." Hope smiled again, and started walking in an arc, leading them back to camp. "It's getting late, we should get back."

"Yeah." Boone agreed, disappointed that their time together was about to end. "Let me know how you go, okay? With the writing, I mean."

"Sure." She looked up at him, smiled, and turned her attention back to their destination. "Hey, you know, if I write the Great American Novel, you're not getting any money out of me after I'm published." She joked.

"What?" Boone laughed, "I should get a HUGE percentage! I mean, providing you with the writing materials – what's that worth? There wouldn't even BE a novel if it weren't for me!"

They laughed together, and then Hope realised a problem, "There still might not be..." She frowned at the book in her hand, looking at it from all angles and checking inside the spiral. "No pen."

Boone frowned too, sighing and thinking back. "We didn't find one with the book."

Their walking slowed as they approached the beach camp, and Boone smiled, his eyes focussing on a small shelter in the distance, "I bet I know where you can get one…" he trailed off, leaving Hope to follow his line of sight.

Hope hung her head and sighed quietly, as she realised she would soon be making a deal with the devil.


	5. Sawyer's Song

Author's Note: The song is part of "Summer, Highland Falls" by Billy Joel. Beautiful song, amazing songwriter. I hope you like the story so far, please R and R and let me know what you think. Gitania

Memories of Hope

Chapter 5: Sawyer's Song

"I need something." Hope stated simply. She knew that Sawyer wasn't one for much small talk, unless it was laced with sarcasm, and after three nearly sleepless nights with her dream circling her mind, she was far from in the mood.

Sawyer smiled, and he removed his sunglasses and sat up. When she had walked into his shelter he was a little surprised, but he was glad to hear that she would be the one on the defensive.

"Which has what to do with me?" he drawled, deciding not to draw out their little chat. He hadn't had a lot to do with Hope so far, and wasn't sure quite how to deal with her.

Hope was already unimpressed with Sawyer – she knew he was playing dumb. He would have to be blind and stupid to miss her patrolling not far from his tent for the last few days, with notebook in hand, psyching herself up for this visit. She had barely put the book down since Boone had given her the gift, and she still wasn't sure she wanted to include Sawyer in something that had become almost sacred to her.

"Look," she said, angry already from sleep deprivation, "I didn't come here for sweet chit-chat, and you know it. I'm here to make a deal. I need a pen, or something to write with at least, and I know you're not one to give something for nothing. So, what do you need?"

Sawyer raised his eyebrows at the possible innuendo, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. If she was this angry already, he had won before the battle began. He pulled himself into a sitting position on the aeroplane blanket he had been laying on, and with a broad smile, swept his hand across it in a gesture for her to sit. Hope felt as though she had just entered war negotiations.

Hope sat, a little heavier than she had intended, and Sawyer's expression softened a little.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked her, looking for a moment as though he might catch something by sharing his blanket with her.

Hope sighed and relaxed her posture until she was more comfortable, but her mood had not been improved by Sawyer's moment of concern. "I can't sleep… All I need is a pen or something, and I'll be out of your hair. I know you don't want to sit here and play Oprah."

Sawyer smiled at this, and caught himself wondering how she remembered something as trivial as a talk-show host, but not her own life.

"Well then, Peaches, I guess I better think of something I want…" he gazed at her suggestively, but Hope was too tired to play his games. If he wanted a rise out of her, he would have to work harder than he was.

She remembered the first time he had used this nickname for her. She had to ask him what its relevance was, and she was surprised when he had said it was because of her pale, English-looking skin. If she was going to have a nickname, she had expected it to relate to her tattoo or her strange lack of past, but Sawyer was one of the few people on the island who didn't seem to think of these things whenever he looked at her. In a strange way, she appreciated that he let himself forget that she was in a worse position than many others.

Sawyer lay back onto his blanket, turning himself so that he wouldn't hit his guest, sitting at the other end. He buried his bare feet in the sand, and closed his eyes. It didn't take long before Hope wondered if the conversation was over, and perhaps she would have to go away and wait until he came up with something that she could give him.

Hope was just shifting her weight to get up and leave, when Sawyer spoke softly.

"There's this song…" he trailed off, and Hope settled herself again on the blanket.

"I have this song in my head. Stuck there, just driving me crazy. Any idea what that's like?" he opened his eyes and looked up at her, wondering for a moment if she actually could remember what that was like. "Anyhow, I want you to get rid of it. I used to listen to the radio to get a new song in my head, but we're a little lost for those kinds of creature comforts out here, you may have noticed."

Hope lifted her tired eyes from the sand and looked down at him, unsure why his request made her so uneasy. "You want me to give you a new song?"

"Yup." He closed his eyes again, and wiggled his toes in the sand, "That's the deal, sweetheart. You give my brain a break from 'You are my Sunshine', and I'll give you some grade 'A' writing materials. I got some good stuff lying around, you know."

"Really?" Hope wasn't convinced. "Let me see."

Sawyer opened his eyes, and sat up, smiling. "I like your style, Peaches, you got some spunk. No trust for no-one, I like that!"

He ambled over to a suitcase and rummaged through its contents. After a moment he emerged, holding a small, flat tin. He sat back down beside her and opened the tin for her to look inside. Hope realised in that moment that she must be an artist or a writer, considering the small, joyous gasp that escaped her at the sight of pencils.

The tin held three sticks of artist's charcoal used for sketching, three lead pencils, each with a different number on the side, and two pens full of ink that didn't quite belong. Sawyer must have found them separately and added them to the collection himself.

Her smile and watery eyes caused Sawyer to laugh out loud. "Maybe I should ask for something better in return, if you're going to get all weepy over pieces of burned wood."

Hope pulled herself together quickly, and resumed the deal. "One song, for everything in that tin?" she asked, wanting to be very clear on the terms of their agreement.

"Yup. Hell, I'll even throw the tin in for free!" he smiled widely, and put the lid back on the tin. "And now, my song…"

He lay back on the blanket, again burying his feet in the sand, as Hope did the same beside him. She had become quite accustomed to his company in the short time she had spent with him, and she wondered why Sawyer would knowingly give her the better end of a deal. Unless, of course, he really hated 'You are my Sunshine', which was entirely possible.

Hope racked her brain for another song, the trouble being that she didn't really know any since the loss of her memories. She did her best to clear her mind, and tried not to think about the possibility that she was a terrible singer. A tune came into her mind, and she sang it without a thought, desperate to get her hands on the writing materials that may be the key to her sanity, and a good night's sleep.

Softly at first, she began to sing, and Sawyer closed his eyes to listen.

"They say that these are not the best of times,

But they're the only times I've ever known.

And I believe there is a time for meditation

In Cathedrals of our own

Now I have seen that sad surrender in my lover's eyes

But I can only stand apart and sympathise

For we are only what our situations hand us

It's either sadness or euphoria…"


	6. Cue the Sun

Memories of Hope

Chapter 6: Cue the Sun

Hope followed the bullet with her eyes as it crossed in front of the wall of photographs. She strained her eyes to try and see the pictures inside the frames, but they were blurred and unrecognisable. The room hurtled past at breakneck speed, as the bullet tore towards the woman. The metal hit its target, and finally came the familiar sound of the gunshot as she fell to the ground.

Hope sat bolt upright as a new sound filled her ears. The woman's scream froze Hope's blood in her veins, and she felt tears streaming from her eyes and her heart pounding in her chest. As she sat crying, Hope realised that she had never heard the scream in the dream before, yet it sounded chillingly familiar.

Charlie grabbed her shoulder, and shook her with surprising force. Hope looked up and focussed her eyes, taking in the people crowded around her. Jack was forcing his way through the small crowd, but Hope could only see the small dark eyes of Walt, her fishing partner, as he was pulled closer to his protecting dad.

"…okay?" Hope registered Jack's voice. "Are you okay? Hope? Hope? Are you okay? Look at me."

Hope lifted her eyes to look straight into the Doctor's, and finally her vision became clear.

She gave herself a shake, and tried to clear the image of the woman's body from her mind. "I'm okay." She said in a scratchy voice she almost didn't recognise. "I'm okay, its okay."

Hope gave a small smile and looked at the faces crowded around her. Hurley, Charlie, Jack, Walt – the whole crowd that lived at the caves – all looking concerned and a little scared themselves.

"Just a bad dream," Hope explained, watching their faces relax as she wiped away tears. "It's okay, it was just a nightmare. I'm fine, really."

Jack looked closely at her face and took control of the situation. "It's okay, everybody. Just give her some room. Don't worry, she's fine. No injuries, just a little scare, right?" the last part he directed to Hope, and she nodded her agreement.

"Right." She smiled around at the faces familiar to her. "I'm fine."

The crowd dispersed slowly, all preparing for the day in their own ways. Hope noticed the sun beginning to rise, and Jack, who sat down beside her.

"How you doin'?" he asked seriously. "Is it the same dream again?"

Hope nodded, "I can't seem to get rid of it. It's still pretty vague, but I keep getting more and more of the story. I don't know what to do to get rid of it."

Jack collected her pencils and charcoal, putting them neatly back into the tin, and lifted the notebook from the floor of the caves.

"Lucky you never let go of these, the tin hit the ground and woke the rest of us." He paused, watching her intently, "You don't have to do this by yourself, you know. We can help you."

"'We' can help, or 'I' can help, Doctor Jack?" Hope smiled.

Jack smiled back at her, wondering if she knew that she wasn't the only one on the island haunted by the past.

"Boone thinks that writing it all down will help." She said, "He says that I was a writer before – he saw me on the plane."

Jack looked thoughtful, "It's a good idea. Psychologists have people write things down all the time. I really hope it helps you. Maybe after you get all of this out of your head and onto some paper, the rest of your memories will come back with a lot less trouble."

"So you really think my dream is a memory?" Hope had already considered this herself, and wasn't sure how she felt about the possibility.

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Maybe I'll give it a try today," she suggested, "unless you all need me for something."

Jack knew the answer she was looking for, "No, its fine. Go and write, if that's what you need to do. We can do without you for a little while."

Hope smiled, and the pair stood slowly. She gave him a quick hug for his help, took her notebook and tin from his hands, and strode off towards the beach with a purpose.

With the sound of the woman's scream still echoing in her mind, Hope sat on the white sand of the beach to write. She opened her tin but, instead of a pen, lifted out a stick of charcoal. She started to sketch the woman, lying peacefully on the floor, looking as though she had fallen asleep there.

Boone wandered over as she was finishing the picture, smiling broadly as he saw her using his gift.

"Wow," he said appreciatively, looking over her shoulder at the page. "You're quite the artist."

"Thanks." Hope smiled, looking up at him. "It's my dream. I don't really know what to make of it, though."

"What do you mean?" Boone frowned a little, looking back at the drawing.

"I mean, I don't really know what it is. It's a woman, but I don't know her."

"Well I know her," Boone laughed.

"Really?" Hope stood up quickly to face him, and they both looked closely at the picture. "Who is she?"

Boone laughed again, unable to believe that Hope could not recognise the face of her own sketch.

"Sun."

"What?"

"Sun." Boone explained with a puzzled smile. "It's Sun – the Asian lady at the caves. You know, Sun."

Hope looked wide-eyed at the sleeping woman on the page, recognising at last the face that had haunted her mind for days and days.

"Oh my God…" she stood breathless looking at the page, as Boone started to look concerned, "You're right. It's Sun. She's Sun."


	7. Clarity

Memories of Hope

Chapter 7: Clarity

"It's not Sun." Jack stated, after hearing Hope tell the story of the sketch. He looked closely at the page, with eyes intensely focussed, "I mean, it's Sun, but it isn't really Sun."

"What?" Hope was too tired for cryptic clues. She sat on the edge of a rock near the caves, with Boone beside her, frowning at Jack for his mysterious response to her dilemma.

"Yeah, dude, it sure looks like her to me." Hurley looked over Jack's shoulder at the page, and Hope recognised that her story had drawn quite a crowd.

After their surprising revelation, Hope had run to the caves with Boone in tow, to speak with Jack. He was the closest their little community had to a therapist, and Hope was growing more and more certain that she was losing her mind. She had started her story at the beginning, the day she and Walt had started fishing together, and ended up at the present moment. Somewhere in that time, Charlie, Hurley, Kate, Walt and Michael had joined them, sitting on rocks and the ground, as though they were attending story time at the local bookstore.

Jack looked disparagingly at Hurley, and handed the notebook back to its owner. "Well, it is her."

Charlie piped up, trying to end the uncertainty. "Look, Jack, first you said it was, and then you said it wasn't, and now it is again. I doubt that I'm the only one who's a little lost, here. Is the picture of Sun, or not?"

"Yes." Jack stated, and turning to face Charlie, who looked relieved to have a straight answer. "But no."

Charlie's face fell, and reflected the common expression of bewilderment that the group held. Hope was convinced – she was losing her mind, and Jack was helping. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could handle.

"Jack!" Hope stood, and got into his space. "I'm going just a little crazy, here. No more interruptions! I don't know how it can be her, and not her, at the same time, but please be good enough to enlighten us all before I really start to lose it." She spoke quietly, but Jack could tell that she was quickly getting to the end of her rope.

"Okay, sorry. Sit down, and I'll explain." Hope returned to her rock, and felt Boone's arm wrap around her shoulder. She felt strangely comforted by his presence. Jack continued, "The picture in the book is of Sun, no question."

Charlie looked pleased, but still more than a little lost.

"The picture in your mind, however, is not."

"But it is!" Hope interjected, the sleepless nights and stress getting to her. "They're the same picture!"

"I know." Jack said quietly and firmly, and Hope fell silent.

Jack turned to the group, "What I mean is – she's not really Sun." Hope inhaled to speak, but fell silent again as Jack turned to face her. "The face is Sun's, but I think she's more of a representation. The only faces you know are those of the people on this island. In my opinion, Sun is just a fill-in for someone else in your life before."

"So, the woman in the dream only looks like Sun because Hope doesn't remember what she really looks like." Walt spoke up, putting it straight for everyone, and Charlie's expressive face took on a look of relief.

"Well, I'm glad we got that sorted out." He said, standing up from his place on the floor, and brushing himself off.

"But, who is she really?" Hurley asked.

"I guess that only Hope knows for sure." Jack answered, using his well-known 'Doctor voice'. "I think this proves for good that your dream is really a memory. Maybe you've buried it, and now it's coming back for you to face it."

Hope sighed, suddenly feeling too tired even to move. It was only mid-morning, but she felt as though she had done manual labour for a whole day and night since waking that morning.

"So, how do I find out who she really is?"

"My guess," said Jack with a grim smile, "is to get some more sleep."

Jack headed off with Kate, who had been strangely silent, to fill water bottles for those left at the beach, and the group dispersed. Story time was over, and the only thing left was a sleep-deprived young woman with a past as haunted as those of her companions.

Boone helped Hope up from their rock, and gave her a concerned look.

"Is there something I can do?" he asked, unsure of how to help.

"I don't know. I don't know what to do." Tears of frustration and exhaustion filled her eyes, and Boone moved closer to pull her into a hug. "I can't keep doing this, Boone. I'm going crazy. What if I can never sleep again? I'll go mad, for sure!"

"It's okay." Boone comforted, holding her tight. "I'm sure things will work out. There has to be someone here who can help you. In the meantime, you know we'll all keep you safe. Nothing's going to get you, not if I have a say in it, okay?"

"Okay." Hope sniffed, and pulled away to smile sadly at Boone. He really was a huge comfort to her – perhaps her best friend on the island. She wondered if he was as true to everyone as he was to her. She almost hoped that he wasn't.

Afraid to be idle, in case she fell asleep again, Hope spent the day spear-fishing with Walt. It had been a while since they tried – Hope had been too tired – but she felt that it was about time to make another effort.

They took a new spot this time, on top of a rock overlooking water about knee-deep. Walt had suggested it, because then they wouldn't be 'in the fish's territory', and they would be easier to catch. Hope couldn't help but wonder if Walt had been taking hunting tips from Locke.

"Sometimes I don't know why we keep this up." Hope said, as she pulled her spear from the sand beneath the water. Walt had fixed things so they didn't have to leave their rock and disturb the waters – each spear now had a short strip of material tied to the end, making what Walt called a 'retrieval rope'. He really was a smart kid.

"Because one day we're going to catch something, and then everyone will want us to teach them. Then we can sit back, and watch the fish roll in…" Walt smiled contentedly, and Hope couldn't help but laugh at him.

"You know, I've been thinking…" Walt started, letting his spear-wielding arm drop to his side and looking at his companion.

"Great job." Hope teased, relaxing along with him, "Always a good way to pass the time."

Walt gave her a serious look, and Hope gave an expression of apology, encouraging him to continue.

"I've been thinking about you and your dream. All you really need to do is get inside your own head, and look around some more. Suss the place out, you know?"

"Sounds great, buddy, but how does one get inside one's own head?" Hope asked seriously.

"That's the part I haven't figured out yet." Walt admitted, scanning the water again and holding his spear at the ready.

"Oh." Hope was a little bit let down – she had hoped that this child would have just the idea she needed.

"Maybe Mr. Locke can help you." he suggested, a hero-worshipping boy's answer to all, locking his eye line and throwing his spear into the shallows.

Hope was considering this as an option when Walt jumped in the air and whooped,

"I did it! I got a fish! Woooooo! I got one!"

Hope looked into the water, and saw a fish struggling, with the end of Walt's spear pinning it to the sand.

"Oh my God!" she yelled, "You did it! Woooooo! Yeah!" She picked Walt up in a huge hug, and spun him around on their fishing rock.

Walt grabbed his spear from the water, leaving the fish on the end, and the pair ran up to the beach camp to show off their catch. As they ran celebrating past an impressed-looking Sawyer, Hope realised where they were going.

Walt ran straight up to Locke, showing off his hunting prowess to his hunting instructor. Locke smiled a smile that filled his whole face, and gave Walt a military style handshake and a friendly slap on the back.

"I'm gonna go show my dad." Walt said cheerfully, already heading towards the path to the caves.

"Okay," Hope responded, deciding to stay with Locke, "Be careful on the path. I'll see you at dinner!"

Walt beamed, calling back, "This one's for us, Hope!"

"Can't wait, buddy!"

Hope and Locke laughed as Walt hurried through the sand, sinking deeper the faster he tried to run.

As Walt disappeared through the trees, Locke turned to Hope. She didn't have a lot to say to him, but she wondered if he really could help her, as Walt had suggested. Hope was always surprised by the knowing look on the older man's face. She soon realised that news had travelled very quickly around the camps.

Locke's smile brought her strange comfort as he said quietly, "I know why you're still here…"


	8. Taking Control

Memories of Hope

Chapter 8: Taking Control

"Are you serious?" After a short time with Locke, Hope wasn't nearly as afraid of him as before, and she was becoming convinced that he was messing with her mind.

"Deadly." He replied. Hope was sure that he liked to use words like that entirely for the dramatic effect.

"How does it work?" she had told Locke about Walt's idea of looking around in her own head, and was surprised to find that Locke had a theory on how to go about it.

"Well, lucid dreaming can be a tricky thing. Often, different kinds of foods can help to trigger them, but that's probably not much of an option around here." He smiled kindly, and Hope had a sudden feeling of déjà vu, as though she had seen that kind smile many times before.

"Your best bet," he continued, "is probably more of a meditative state. It's fairly simple, or so I've read. Before falling asleep at night, you repeat a simple chant in your mind. 'As I dream I will realise I am dreaming'."

"And then what?"

Locke laughed at all of the questions, realising for a moment that in reality Hope was only a young woman, though lately lack of sleep made her look far older than her years.

"Then, when you sleep you should be aware that you are dreaming. If all goes well, and with some practise I should imagine, you can learn to control what happens in your dream. You can ask questions, create events, and, hopefully, find some answers."

Hope smiled gratefully and the pair stood. "Thankyou, Locke, this is great. I'll start tonight."

"Well, I hope it works for you. No guarantees, of course, but I think you're bright enough to pull it off." For a moment he looked hesitant, "Though, Hope, if this is really a memory, as Jack suspects, are you sure you want to know all the details?"

Hope sighed, "I've been wondering that myself," she admitted, "but I can't see how I can keep living like this. Walt once told me that if we don't remember, we can't learn from what we've done wrong. I guess I just don't want to have to start all over again. And it would be nice to remember the faces from my life – the people that might be missing me."

"I can understand that." Locke said. He thought for a moment, and added with a smile, "Smart kid."

"You're telling me!" Hope laughed, "He idolises you, you know."

"He's got a lot of potential. Most people here are struggling to adjust, but he's right there in the thick of it, desperate to learn and help out. He's a good kid, sharp as a tack – he just might do okay out here."

"I think you're right." Hope prepared to head back to the caves, "Well, thanks again, Locke, I really think this might help me."

"No problem."

Hope walked slowly up the beach, towards the path to the caves.

"Hey!" Locke called out, causing Hope to stop and turn around. "Good luck!"

Hope gave him a genuine smile, and watched him turn back to sharpening his knives before carrying on in the direction of the path.

It took only a few minutes idly standing around at the caves for Hope to realise she would go stir crazy if she didn't do something. Walt was long gone, probably playing with Vincent, or bugging his dad for some attention.

Kate seemed to be spending the day at the caves, and she soon joined Hope for a drink of water.

"How's it going?" Kate asked, although she could see how badly the wear and tear was showing on Hope.

"I'm doing a little better now. I just spoke to Locke." replied Hope, as though that said it all.

"Maybe you should try talking to someone else." Kate suggested.

"Oh yeah? Who do you think? I think I've got appointments with every therapist in this place, after story time this morning. Speaking of which, you were pretty quiet." Hope thought it might be nice to hear about someone else for a change. "Anything going on?"

"Actually, I was planning." Kate laughed, "Scheming, plotting, the usual."

Hope laughed along, and waited for Kate to continue.

"Plotting about you, actually…" Kate trailed off.

"Trying your hand at a little matchmaking, Madame Kate?" Hope smiled at her friend, silently fearing her plans.

"Not yet, but it's not a terrible idea." Kate raised her eyebrows, and got a wide-eyed look in return. Kate turned serious for a minute, "I was thinking more about you and Sun. Maybe if you spent some time with her, it would trigger something for you. You could remember who she's standing in for in your mind."

"Nice theory, but I hardly ever see her around here anymore. She disappears early every day, and we don't see her again until night."

"I know. I was starting to wonder about that, too. But I found her a few days ago. She's been making a garden."

"A garden?" Hope wasn't sure why they needed flowers when they were struggling for survival.

Kate saw her confusion, "A food garden. Planting fruits – anything we can find, really. It might be nice for you to visit her there."

"Really? Would you show me where?"

"Sure. It's not too far, and we can collect some seeds on the way. Sun likes presents of the edible variety." Kate laughed.

"How do you know?" Hope joked. "She's not exactly the chatty type – not in our language, anyway."

Kate smiled knowingly, "You might be surprised… Now, about this matchmaking idea."


	9. Portrait of a Lady

Author's Note: I'm making a small layout change, to make things easier to read. Hope's dreams will now be written in _italics_, so they cab be differentiated from the rest of the story. I hope this makes things clearer. I hope you enjoy this chapter, please review to let me know what you think. Gitania

Memories of Hope

Chapter 9: Portrait of a Lady

"Seriously!" Hope laughed along at Sun's story as the three women knelt, digging in the dirt to soften it for planting seeds. "I never would have thought that about Jin!"

Kate smiled, happy to hear some real joy in her friend's voice. Initially it had been a shock for Hope to hear Sun speak English, but after a relatively speedy adjustment the three women were able to spend the rest of the afternoon in comfortable conversation.

Kate rose to her feet and dusted herself off. "I should be getting back," she said, "the sun's starting to go down and we're going to need more wood for the fire on the beach."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Hope asked.

"No, you stay here with Sun and see if anything comes to you. I'll find someone at the caves to help me out."

"Okay. Well, we'll be seeing you, okay? We should get back before it gets much later anyway." Hope stood and hugged her friend, whispering a quiet thankyou in her ear.

Kate smiled, waved quickly to Sun, and left the garden.

"Do you think she knows how the Doctor feels about her?" Sun asked quietly as Kate disappeared into the trees.

Hope knelt back down to continue digging through the soil with her hands. "I think so. But I don't really think she's open to getting attached, you know?"

Sun smiled and nodded. She never spoke much, and Hope supposed she had become used to being quiet around the others.

"How are you feeling now?" Sun asked. She had been worried after Kate told her the story of Hope's dreams, and was even more concerned to learn that she was inadvertently playing a pivotal role.

"Much better, thanks." Hope smiled, getting a familiar feeling of déjà vu from gardening with Sun. "I've been speaking with Locke, and we may have a plan for figuring out my dream. I'd do almost anything for a good night's sleep by now."

Sun's sad smile struck a chord, and Hope found her eyes filling with tears.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, wiping at her eyes, "I don't know what it is about you. It's hard to explain… I'm just really tired, I guess. Sorry."

Sun patted Hope's hand through layers of dirt, and the women stood to head back to the caves before dark.

"Hungry?" Hope asked.

"I am not sure if the way we are eating is healthy for us." Sun worried.

"I think we're doing okay." Hope said, as they started along the path. "Doctor Jack would be the first one to tell us if we're going wrong, and besides, we don't have too many options."

They had walked a little way before Hope remembered, "Walt and I caught a fish today – finally! With any luck we've figured out a successful way of fishing, so we can catch more and teach others how to do it. We'll be rolling in fish within a few days!" she said confidently.

Sun looked encouraged, but stayed silent as they neared the caves. Just before they came into sight, Hope stopped walking and turned to Sun.

"Sun," she started, "Thankyou for today – for spending time with me. I really think this is going to help me to get things figured out."

Sun smiled her soft smile, and quickly squeezed Hope's hand before finishing their journey home to the caves.

That night, with the taste of Walt's fish still in her mouth, Hope looked for a comfortable place to sleep. She lay in the dark, listening to the soft conversation of her companions, and smiling as Sun and Jin lay down together close by.

Thinking quickly of Locke, Hope began her silent chant in hopes that she could begin her lucid dreaming as soon as possible. 'As I dream I will realise I am dreaming. As I dream I will realise I am dreaming...'

_The familiar living room crossed Hope's mind, and she was immediately alert. _

'_I'm dreaming.' she thought. 'I'm inside my dream.'_

_She watched the bullet cross the room, and tried to focus on the wall of photographs, searching for clues to her past. The blurred shapes were slowly becoming sharper, but she soon realised that the bullet was moving too fast. It would hit its target before she would be able to see the photographs clearly. _

_Hope turned her head to follow the bullet as it hit, watching a tear run down Sun's cheek as she fell to the floor. She smiled her sad smile one last time as her eyes closed, and the sound of the gunshot filled Hope's mind._

Hope's eyes opened and immediately filled with tears, as the image of Sun's sad smile circled in her mind. It was still late at night, and she cried softly as she lay in the dark, feeling strangely lonely. A small hand reached out and slowly stroked her wrist, just beneath the dark letters of her tattoo, causing Hope to look up at her comforter.

Sun sat quietly beside her, leaving Jin asleep nearby, smiling her familiar sad smile. Hope lifted her head into Sun's lap, and felt consoling hands run through her hair as she cried for her losses. It was in that moment of paternal comfort that Hope realised the depth of her loneliness.

Through tear-filled eyes she looked up at Sun… a perfect portrait of her mother.


	10. Belong

Memories of Hope

Chapter 10: Belong

"You can't just pack up and go!" She would never admit it, but deep down Shannon was still a lost little girl, afraid to be without her long-time protector.

"You have Sayid to take care of you." Boone countered gently. "You don't need me anymore. Hope's having a really hard time, and I want to be there for her."

Shannon's face softened as she realised that he was already gone. She smiled, saying softly, "You know, Boone, I don't think you're in love with me anymore."

Boone pulled her into a hug and whispered in her ear, "Maybe not, but I still love you. You're my sister, Shannon, and there's no changing that."

He picked up his small bag of belongings, and turned to go. "I'll only be at the caves. Come and see me anytime you want." He paused, "Bring Sayid."

Shannon smiled, impressed that he had grown to accept and even like Sayid, and waved to her brother as he walked away up the beach.

"She's my mother." Hope said to Locke, standing further up the beach as she watched Boone talking to Shannon as he packed a bag. "In the dream, I mean."

"Sun?" asked Locke. "I'm sorry to hear that – I'm sorry for your loss. But I'm glad that lucid dreaming is working for you."

"It's not working!" she complained. "I mean, I realised I was dreaming, but I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't change anything."

"Patience. You just need some time and practise. Try to be calm about it – these things unfold as they are meant to." he followed her line of sight, "Boone's moving to the caves?"

Hope nodded. "I told him this morning about last night's dream, and he came straight here to pack. He says he wants to keep an eye on me."

"Of course he does. Men like to keep an eye on their women in order to ensure their safety."

"Is that right?" Hope asked suspiciously. "So, does that mean that I belong to Boone now?"

"I think that's the idea in his mind. If that's not how it's going to be, you should let him know before he gets too attached to that idea." Hope often wondered about Locke – he seemed to have a frightening grasp on the human condition.

Hope looked out across the sand at Boone as he stepped in and hugged Shannon.

"Does it make you jealous?" Locke asked in his quietly serious tone.

"They're family!" she laughed, trying to hide the uneasiness in her stomach. She knew that the pair weren't related by blood.

"Pretend they're not. She's a pretty girl – does it make you jealous?" he repeated.

Hope watched as Boone held the leggy blonde close, and remembered how he had hugged her on the day Jack told her that Sun wasn't really Sun. She remembered looking up at him, into his clear eyes, and she felt her own eyes lower to the ground.

"Yes."

"Well," Locke said simply, "now you know. I realise the anti-feminist stigma attached to the thought of 'belonging' to someone else – but maybe you should try it. See how it works out."

Hope looked at Locke, and recognised for a moment that he was more than he seemed – this was a man who had loved, lost, and lived to tell the tale.

Still, Hope was at a loss. "I don't exactly know the appropriate courting rituals that go with being stuck on a deserted island!"

"So make your own rules and rituals." Locke said, giving her a knowing look. "It has to be better than making all of these excuses."

Hope looked away from Locke to see Boone walking towards them with his bag of belongings over his shoulder.

"Ready to go?" he asked, looking up to check the sun. "It's almost noon."

"Sure." Hope smiled at him, and turned back to farewell Locke. "Hey Locke, thanks for the advice. I'll give your anti-feminist views some thought."

He waved as she began to walk away. "Good luck with your dreams – don't give up!"

Locke watched the young pair walk up the beach towards the path to the caves. Boone held out his hand for Hope to hold, and the older man smiled to himself as he saw her reach out to take it. Maybe she would be able to let herself belong, after all.

Boone and Hope stepped under the cool shade of the trees as he asked, "What was all the anti-feminism about?"

"Nothing." Hope smiled to herself, "Just a joke."

"With Locke?" Boone looked impressed. "He must really like you – I don't see him as being much of a joker."

They walked in silence for a moment before Hope turned to ask, "How was Shannon?"

"She's fine. She has Sayid now – she doesn't need her big brother watching over her all the time. Anyway, I won't be far."

"Yeah," Hope agreed, "but she's bound to miss you, after all the time you two have been together."

Boone stopped abruptly, and turned to face her with an irritated expression.

"What do you mean, 'together'?" he asked; his tone harsh. "We're not 'together'!"

"I didn't mean 'together'." Hope said, stressing the word to imply a relationship. "Though, you're a little defensive about it, don't you think!"

Boone sighed and seemed to calm down. "I'm sorry, you're right." he agreed. "I didn't mean to be defensive; I just don't want you to get the wrong idea about me and Shannon."

"What does it matter what kind of idea I have about you and Shannon!" Hope retorted, still taken aback by Boone's outburst.

"It matters." he said firmly, "Because if you have the wrong idea about me and Shannon, you obviously have the wrong idea about me and you!" He was losing the battle, and Boone wondered if he was losing his chance.

"And what idea should I have about us?" Hope challenged, urging him to make a move.

"I'm moving to the caves to be with you," Boone exclaimed, "doesn't that give you a clue!"

Hope lost her nerve and her irritation, casting her eyes to the floor. She wandered a few steps off of the path and sat heavily on a log. Boone soon joined her, laying his bag down on the grass at his feet.

He sighed, and tried to explain. "I don't know the rules, here. If you were any normal girl, in any normal situation, I'd just ask you out for a drink, or for coffee, or something, and we'd go from there." He smiled deviously as he joked, "With a little luck we'd go from there, straight back to my place!"

Hope laughed and hit him playfully in the arm. Boone grew serious as he continued,

"But instead, I'm on an island, with the nearest Starbucks probably hundreds of thousands of miles away, with a girl who has no past and is named after a tattoo!" Hope smiled at this, for the first time realising the absurdity of their situation. "It's a little irregular, don't you think? I'm a little out of my depth."

"I know." Hope sighed, "Me too."

Boone smiled to lighten the mood, "So I can't take you on a real date. All I can do is find you a notebook, and move to a different place of shelter to be closer to you."

"That's more romantic than a latté." Hope joked. After a moment she suggested, "So, maybe we can make our own way… it's working for Shannon and Sayid."

Hope watched Boone's eyes, and was relieved to see that the usual flash that appeared there at the mention of Sayid was gone, replaced with an expression of affection.

"How about we make out own way back to the caves?" he suggested, rising and pulling his bag over his shoulder. "We did say to Jack that we'd be right back – he'll be wondering what's happened to us."

Hope stood up and took Boone's hand, letting him lead her back to the path. They had only walked a few steps when he stopped abruptly and leaned down towards her. She smiled to herself as he kissed her slowly and softly, sealing the deal that they would endeavour to belong to each other for a while. He pulled away to stroke her cheek.

"You kissed me." she said quietly.

"Yes, I did." he acknowledged.

"Before the first date!"

Boone held up his hands in surrender as she stepped away and wore on an expression of mock-horror.

"Hey," he smiled in his calm, confident way, taking her hand again and leading her down the path, "I'm just making my own way!"


	11. Seeds of the Past

Author's Note: For Saraiyu, my most faithful reviewer, and curer of writer's block. I hope you like this one; let me know how it's going. Enjoy! Gitania

Memories of Hope

Chapter 11: Seeds of the Past

"…up. Come on, it's time to wake up now. Hope." Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, Hope could hear Boone's voice calling her. She slowly dragged herself from sleep and opened her eyes.

"Hey," he smiled, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Hey," she turned in his arms, trying to get as close to the warmth of his body as possible. "Is it late?"

"No, it's only just light, but there's someone here to see you." Boone gestured over her shoulder, and Hope sat up to look around.

The camp was already emptying – each person leaving for the day to fill their roles on the island. She turned her attention to where Boone had pointed, and saw Locke standing and talking quietly with Jack as they waited for her to rise.

Locke was standing next to a small white suitcase, and he, Jack, and the case were all covered with dirt. The men were drinking water and catching their breath, both looking very pleased with themselves.

"Hey," Hope pulled herself up and made her way towards Locke, leaving Boone to get their morning water.

"You're up," Locke observed. "We've been waiting for you."

"Oh? And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Hope asked, giving them each a bright smile. She finally had a night of good sleep, thanks to the close proximity of Boone, and she was relieved to be feeling much better today than she had been lately.

Jack smiled at her energy and nodded towards the suitcase. "We found this."

"So I see." Hope said, not really sure what to do with the information, but enjoying herself nonetheless. She grinned widely, "Is there something good in there?"

"I suppose that depends on who you ask," Locke mused, "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

"That's very wise, Mr. Locke." Hope smiled at him. "Seriously, what's in there?"

"We didn't look through it all," Jack said, "Just enough to find out whose it is."

Jack spoke quietly, although there was no-one else left around them, and Hope's face turned serious as she realised what they were saying. "Mine?" she asked, in a small voice.

"We think it's your carry-on luggage," Jack said seriously. "We found some photos in there with you in them. We thought you might want to look through it all by yourself."

"This may be just what you need." Locke supposed. He smiled encouragingly, as Hope began to feel more and more afraid of what she might find.

"We'll leave you to it, then." Jack announced, giving Hope a small smile and walking away with Locke, leaving Hope alone with the small, dirty, white suitcase.

Hope picked up the case and brought it back to the space where she and Boone had slept. He soon came over to her, bringing a bottle of water and offering her a drink.

Boone was serious, taking his cue from the hesitant expression that Hope wore.

"It's yours," he said, phrasing it as a question, and Hope nodded. "Maybe you should open it." The suggestion was gentle, but Boone felt that he should leave her alone to search through her possessions.

"I'm going to work on the golf course with Hurley today," he said softly, putting an arm around her shoulders. "We won't be far away. I'll leave you to look through your things by yourself, okay? You can come and get me anytime you need to. You know where to go, don't you?"

"Yeah," Hope smiled at him, impressed at his ability to understand her. "I'll come and find you if I need something."

Boone hugged her tightly, kissed her briefly, and walked away to find Hurley and start work on the 6th hole.

Hope sighed deeply and sat staring at the suitcase. She was trying to prepare herself for what she might find inside, but she was quickly losing that battle, along with her self-control.

She reached slowly for the case, and opened the zipper to the smallest of three compartments. She found a toothbrush, a pair of white socks that had obviously seen better days, tampons, and three pens of different colours. Boone must have been right – all the evidence said that she was a fanatical writer.

None of these items were spurring any memories, so Hope placed them back in their compartment and closed it tight. The next compartment held a portable CD player, extremely damaged, with four spare batteries still in their packaging. A well-worn book of fairytales with some pages dog-eared to keep her place. She flipped through the book trying to recall the stories, and finally decided that she would have to read them again later.

There were more pens, and some oil pastels with more colours than Hope had ever seen on the island, but most importantly, her own notebook. She remembered Boone telling her that he had seen her writing on the plane, and this book was proof. She went straight to the back page to read what she had written during the flight.

As she turned the pages to reach the back, a small paper pouch fell from the book and into her lap. Hope picked it up, and realised that it was a packet of seeds. 'Forget-me-nots' read the side, with a picture of small blue flowers.

The notebook lay forgotten as the seeds brought tears to Hope's eyes. She tore the package open and poured some of the small seeds into her hand, falling to the floor as the tears spilled and she was overcome with grief.

_Hope watched the bullet leave the barrel of the gun, and worked with all of her strength to stop it. She reached out with one hand in an effort to bring the bullet to a halt, and her fingers hit a hard surface. The glass of a window was right in front of her, and Hope realised for that first time that she was standing outside in a garden. _

_She turned away from the window, and took in her surroundings. There was newly dug earth in a flower bed to her left, and she moved closer for a better look. She heard voices, and she quickly looked back through the window and into the house. The woman and the bullet were both gone, and still the voices grew louder. _

_She turned back to the newly dug soil, to see herself and Sun, kneeling on the lawn, reaching into the flower bed to loosen the dirt, just as they had days ago on the island. Hope heard a strange and familiar laugh, and was surprised to see that it was her own._

_She looked on as the pair continued their gardening, oblivious to her presence, when Sun stood up and removed her gardening gloves. 'We'll plant the forget-me-nots next,' she said with a smile, 'I'll get them', and she began walking towards the house to find the seeds, dropping the gloves by the back door. _

_Hope turned back to the window, and watched as Sun entered the room inside. The bullet was there, making its way toward her at alarming speed. Hope's eyes filled with tears as the bullet hit its target, and Sun fell abruptly to the floor. Hope turned around quickly, hoping that Sun would be back in the garden, but finding it empty as the gunshot sounded in her mind. _

Hope sat up with a start, feeling the dried tears on her cheeks. She looked around, and gathered the seeds that had fallen from her hand to the floor. She placed them all back into their paper package, and folded the edge so that they wouldn't escape.

With all of her worldly belongings in this suitcase or on the ground in front of her, Hope wondered what else she might find when she really started to search.

Why had her mother been killed? What was Hope doing in Sydney? And, most importantly, why was she going back to LA?


	12. To Serve and Protect

Author's Note: The fairytale is "The Twelve Dancing Princesses" (also called "The Shoes that were Danced to Pieces"), and it is my absolute favourite story! Read it if you can, it's beautiful. The writing in **bold **is the writing in Hope's notebook (_italics_ are still dreams). I'm running out of different writing tools, but hopefully I won't need any more, and this isn't too confusing. Review! Enjoy! Gitania

Memories of Hope

Chapter 12: To Serve and Protect

"…so the young man chose the youngest of the King's daughters to be his bride. They married the very next day, and lived happily ever after." Hope finished, closing the book.

"What happened to all the princes that lived in the underground rooms?" piped up Walt.

"Well," Hope whispered, leaning towards him for dramatic effect, "they stayed frozen forever in their boats on the underground lake, waiting for all eternity for the princesses to return and dance with them again."

Walt smiled at this, and the crowd at the caves prepared themselves for sleep, pleased with the closure of the tale. Those from the beach gathered into a tight group, and waved their goodbyes as they headed back down the path to their shelters on the sand.

What had started as a simple bonding tradition between Hope and Walt had spread through their little community, and now everyone living at the caves would gather each night to hear Hope read from the book of fairytales she had found in her suitcase. Rumours of what they called 'story time' had quickly reached the beach, and Hope was convinced that even Sawyer sometimes wandered to the caves behind some of the other beach-dwellers, hiding himself in the bushes to listen without being seen.

Boone smiled at Hope as she lay down beside him by the fire.

"Nice story," he said softly.

"Thanks," she whispered back, kissing him gently on the cheek. "I'm thinking of 'Cinderella' for tomorrow night."

Boone shook his head and laughed, "Not another one about shoes – you're such a girl! Why not one about a guy? I could go for 'Jack and the Beanstalk'. Hey," he said, suddenly remembering, "I meant to ask – how did the planting go today?"

"Good," Hope smiled sadly. That morning she had finally built up enough nerve to plant the forget-me-not seeds that were planned for her own garden in America. She had employed Sun to help her find a nice spot and assist with the planting, and somehow Hope thought that was as close as she could get to how it should have been.

Boone kissed her and smiled sympathetically, turning onto his back to sleep. Hope had never understood how he could sleep that way, but it suited her because she could lie comfortably on his chest and save her head from the hard ground.

Hope sat next to Boone's resting form and retrieved her old notebook from her battered white suitcase. She read about her past each evening now, trying to spur more memories to the surface.

'**If I didn't know better I'd say mom is finally over my tattoo. She's stopped sighing every time I pull up a sleeve, at least. I didn't think something like "hope" could be so offensive to people – I guess she doesn't get art. Dad is touchy lately, especially about work. He won't say anything about it, but it's getting worse. He seems older; like that shiny badge that used to make him look so unbeatable is weighing him down and sucking the life out of him. Maybe he'll quit soon and become a school bus driver, or something. That'd be good. The uniforms are similar…'**

Hope smiled at herself, picturing her father in his police officer's uniform. She had found a photograph of her family that Jack had alluded to when he and Locke found her bag, and she was slowly familiarising herself with the faces that looked out at her from behind the glass.

Her mother was beautiful. Probably in her late forties or early fifties, she had dark brown hair with pieces of grey starting to sneak through. Her eyes were a dark blue, and she wore the sad smile that Hope had seen so many times both in her dreams and on Sun's face. She often marvelled at how different those two women looked, and yet somehow Sun was the perfect stand-in for the role of Hope's mother.

Hope's father was a strong, intelligent-looking man. He seemed fairly tall, with a broad smile that made Hope smile along no matter how many times she saw it. His dark hair was thinning, and his eyes were darker than her mother's and deeper somehow.

But the face that caught Hope's attention the most was her own. Standing beside her mother with her father behind them to make a family triangle, Hope was often surprised by how small and unimpressive she looked. Since being on the island Hope had learned to make her own way and take care of herself. She and Walt now caught plenty of fish each day, and were teaching others to do the same. She had helped to build shelters, gather food, and defend the group from whatever waited for them in the jungle. The face in the photograph showed nothing of these experiences, and looked surprisingly young and meek. She wondered if it had been the island or her mother's death that changed her.

Hope settled down to sleep, conjuring the mental picture of her father in a blue policeman's uniform, sitting on the couch in their living room after a hard day chasing criminals and ridding their nameless city of sin and misdeeds. Despite the fact that she didn't know this man, Hope drifted into sleep feeling quite proud of him.

"_I can't explain," said her father, looking terrified as he handed her a small pile of bills. _

"_But dad, I don't understand – why are you doing this? Where am I going?"_

"_Sydney, Australia."_

_Hope looked at him wide-eyed, trying to talk him out of the seemingly flippant decision. _

"_Dad…"_

"_No!" he shouted, immediately regretting his tone. He went on, more softly, "Honey, something terrible is going on, and I need you to do this for me. I have to try and fix this."_

"_Dad, this is for real." Hope tried desperately to reason with him. "Mom is dead, and now you're sending me away! What are you going to do here all by yourself? Why aren't you coming with me?"_

_Her father carried on, undeterred, "I've booked a hotel in Sydney for you, under an assumed name. As long as you're there, you're going to be Leslie Miller, do you understand? Your airline bookings are under the name of Robyn Forge – listen to me!"_

_Hope's mind was spinning as she tried to take in her father's wishes. She felt like a fugitive. Her eyes snapped back to her father when he raised his voice, and she realised she had followed him into her room. He was throwing her things into a large white suitcase and handing her the smaller version to use as hand luggage. _

_Suddenly he buckled, sitting heavily on the bed and dropping his head into his hands. Her father – her idol – was crying. _

_Her head spun as though she would faint, and she looked up to find herself back in the family garden, staring through the glass as her mother hit the floor. She screamed in anger and frustration, and slammed her hand against the window as the dream ended with the gunshot ringing through her mind. _

Hope opened her eyes wide, and stared into the dying fire, thankful that she had not yelled aloud and woken anyone. 'What am I doing here?' she thought to herself. A sudden strange recollection filled her mind, and Hope rose to search through her suitcase.

She took out her notebook and flipped to a page near the middle. There was a perfect sketch of a policeman's badge, next to a passage written on the plane heading to Sydney. If she had drawn it during the flight, then where was the badge? She searched desperately through her belongings, trying not to wake Boone. As the sun rose and she had looked into every nook and cranny of the bag, she came to the realisation that only one person who would have taken it.

Like a crow, Sawyer was drawn to anything shiny, and even more so to anything that he could use as leverage later. He must have lifted it from her bag during story time one evening. Hope could have killed him for taking it – anything from her past was precious to her, but at the same time she knew she would need to stay calm and use her intellect in order to pry something precious from the greedy hands of their devil.


	13. Deep Dark

A/N: Thanks so much to all who have reviewed my story so far. Behold the memories! I'm thinking that soon I will wrap it up in a neat little package, so please stick with it. Keep letting me know what you think, I love getting your reviews. Enjoy! Gitania

Memories of Hope

Chapter 13: Deep Dark

"I'm really trying to be civil, Sawyer!" Hope had been in the doorway of Sawyer's shelter for a mere five minutes, and already she was reaching the end of her tether.

"I know you are, Peaches, that's why I'm so amused." he laughed at her and closed his eyes again, pulling his sunglasses down to cover them and snuggling deeper into the aeroplane chair he had dragged into his den.

Hope was losing her temper, struggling with vindictive thoughts of running straight to Sayid and asking him politely to recover her property from Sawyer using any and all force he deemed necessary. Instead, Hope took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore Sawyer's obvious delight at her situation.

"You know," she said sarcastically, "I feel like we've been here before. It may be my less-than-completely-reliable memory, but this is feeling mighty familiar."

"That it is, precious, so what are you going to give me this time?" he raised the glasses from his face and pushed them onto his head, gesturing for her to enter his domain and take a seat.

Hope sat on the sand, knowing she had nothing to offer that could be as valuable to him as holding this over her, "Any chance there's a song plaguing you?" she joked dryly.

Sawyer smiled, enjoying the non-accusatory conversation, "Not this time, I'm afraid, but I'm sure you'll think of something better."

"Look, Sawyer," Hope started, trying to figure out how she would explain her need for her father's badge without giving him more ammunition to use against her. She decided to fight him in his own style, "I know you like a good piece of blackmail..."

"As much as the next man," Sawyer smiled broadly at her, "Unless the next man is the Doc, in which case I like it a whole lot more than the next man!"

"So, how about you give me back my father's badge and I'll let you keep your dignity and all-important bad-boy image."

Sawyer knew better than to look ruffled, and instead fixed her with a challenging stare. "Come again?"

"I know all about you," Hope said softly, looking up at him from her seat on the sand. She smiled in a motherly fashion, "You're just a big softie, aren't you?"

"What!" Sawyer was unimpressed, sitting up straight and giving her the most menacing look he could muster. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Story time." Hope said simply, "I've seen you there. You arrive right after Kate most nights, except you don't want anyone to know. Do you come for the stories, or is it just too lonely to be out here, knowing that we're all safe, warm and enjoying each other's company?"

Hope wondered if Sawyer could see right through her bluff. While she had a strong suspicion that she was recounting the truth, she had never actually seen him during story time. She had no proof.

Sawyer sat still for a long time, weighing up his options. Was a shiny badge really worth being outlawed from the caves at night? He knew that Sayid, for one, would hardly be impressed by his presence, and it would annoy the Doc especially that he followed Kate to the caves each night.

"How do I know you can keep a secret?" he asked, and Hope knew that she would soon be walking back to the caves with the treasure she came for.

"I guess you don't." she replied seriously. "Maybe you'll just have to trust me."

"Trust you?" Sawyer was sceptical. "I don't think so, Peaches. I'm going to need something a little more solid than that."

Hope shrugged, "I don't have anything else – just a fun little secret about you and your softer side." She stood up to leave, and held out her hand for the badge.

Sawyer stood up and reached into his back pocket, retrieving the small golden object.

"Here you go," he said good-naturedly, handing it to her as though they were old friends settling a bet.

"Thanks." She turned to leave as he sat back down, taking the sunglasses from his head and putting them back over his eyes.

"Sawyer?" Hope turned back quietly.

"Mmmmm?" He looked up at her and raised his eyebrows in a bored manner.

"If you want to come to story time – you can. Nobody will mind. It might help if you made an effort to get along with everybody."

"I doubt that the fairytale experience will be made more enjoyable by the presence of their very own 'bad guy'." Sawyer said, "But thanks, Peaches."

Hope smiled sadly at him and left Sawyer to his own devices, gazing happily at the badge in her hand. As it reflected in the light Hope was struck by a strangely familiar feeling of sickness, and felt herself moving rapidly towards the sand beneath her feet as darkness swallowed her.

"_I've booked a hotel in Sydney for you, under an assumed name. As long as you're there, you're going to be Leslie Miller, do you understand? Your airline bookings are under the name of Robyn Forge – listen to me!"_

_Hope's mind was spinning as she tried to take in her father's wishes. She felt like a fugitive. Her eyes snapped back to her father, as she realised she had followed him into her room, and he was throwing her things into a large white suitcase and handing her a smaller version to use as hand luggage. _

_Suddenly he buckled, sitting heavily on the bed and taking his head in his hands. Her father – her idol – was crying. _

"_Dad," Hope said helplessly, sitting beside him and holding him close. _

"_Honey, listen," he said, pulling himself together and holding both of her hands, "This is big. Something huge is happening at the precinct, and I found out about it. Did you see their faces – the people that shot your mother?"_

_Hope nodded, knowing she would never be able to erase those faces from her memory. _

"_Good," he said nodding, "Never forget them. These people are cops – cops that I work with. They killed your mother because I know what they've been doing and I was going to turn them all in. They're working with criminals – big time criminals – buying and selling weapons all over America. This could go right to the top of the ladder of the police force, honey, so you can't stay here. They'll get to you, too, and then we'll never be able to put them away. You're the only witness."_

_Hope was panicked, fearing that any moment her mother's killers would burst through her bedroom door and shoot them both. "Dad, I'm scared," she confided. _

"_I know, honey, but I'm taking care of you. I won't lose you, too." He pulled her into a hug, and then released her saying, "Now pack. Take anything you need, I don't know how long you'll be away. It's only until we get a court date, and then I'll send for you to come home and testify against these people. We're going to get them, honey. Then we can be a family again."_

_Hope held back tears as she packed her things, placing her notebook carefully into her hand luggage, along with the family photo that sat on her nightstand._

_At the airport she refused to cry as she hugged her father tight, and as she pulled away he handed her a passport and a small gift, wrapped loosely in a handkerchief. She handed her boarding pass and the passport to the air hostess as she boarded the plane, and tried to hide her surprise at seeing the name "Robyn Forge" next to her own photograph._

_After settling herself into seat 26 D, Hope built up the courage to open her father's last gift to her. She cried bitterly as his police officer's badge was revealed from within the folds of the handkerchief. As the plane took off Hope held the badge in her hand, watching it reflect the sunlight that shone in through the double-paned window. She felt sick with fear, wondering if she would ever be with the people she loved again. _


	14. Becoming Found

A/N: Well, here it is – the LAST chapter. It's finished! Hurrah! I hope you've enjoyed my story, thanks so much to all of my reviewers so far, please keep reviewing to let me know what you think. Above all, enjoy! Gitania

Memories of Hope

Chapter 14: Becoming Found

"…apple rolled out of her hand as she fell to the floor…" Walt was reading aloud when Hope woke slowly, the words beginning to register in her mind. She had been unconscious since fainting on the beach, but she was proud to see that story time was continuing without her.

"How are you feeling?" Jack was sitting near her, speaking in a whisper so he wouldn't disturb the group outside. Hope realised that she had been brought to the caves, and was sitting up near the entrance, wrapped in blankets. She was happy to be able to see the regular group gathered by the fires as Walt read.

She nodded and smiled softly at Jack, to indicate that she was alright, but her throat was dry and she couldn't speak. She lifted her head carefully and looked around. Boone sat right beside her, holding her left hand and sleeping lightly.

"You've been in and out for a long time." Jack said, "You fell at the beach around 9 hours ago. I was starting to get pretty worried."

Hope looked back to Boone, realising how haggard he looked.

"He hasn't left your side since you got here," Jack continued, smiling at the couple.

Hope coughed dryly, removing her right hand from the fold of blankets to take the water bottle that he handed her. She drank a little, feeling the water soothe her throat.

"How did I get up here?" Hope asked quietly.

"Sawyer." Jack laughed a little, "He saw you fall right outside his shelter. He carried you all the way here when he couldn't wake you. Boone was livid. Well, he was probably jealous, more than anything."

Hope smiled fondly at the figure resting beside her.

"He hasn't stopped pacing around all day," Jack said of Boone, "We've all been pretty worried about you. At first I thought it was just heat stroke, but then Sawyer told me about taking a policeman's badge from him, and I wasn't so sure..."

"I've been getting my memories back quickly over the last couple of days. I think I know what happened to me. I remember it all now, clear as day."

Jack looked a little worried, "We'll sort that out when you're feeling better, okay?"

"…couldn't bear to bury one so beautiful. So they put a glass top on the coffin, and left her in the forest for all the animals to mourn her. Many days later, a handsome prince was riding in the forest, when…" she could hear Walt's story continuing in the background.

"Story time." she smiled at the thought.

"Yeah," Jack laughed, "Walt decided that as co-founder, he should carry on until you were better. He's doing a good job. Snow White."

"I noticed," Hope smiled. She yawned quietly, and Jack stood to let her rest.

"I'll be right outside if you need me, okay?"

Hope nodded her thanks, and watched him join the group around the fire.

"Hey," she whispered softly, squeezing Boone's hand to wake him. He woke slowly, and she smiled at his child-like way.

He looked over and saw her awake, immediately alert. He spoke quickly but tenderly, "Hey, are you okay? What happened? Have you seen Jack? He really wants to make sure you're alright."

Hope raised her eyebrows and gave him a soft mothering look, quieting him without effort, "I'm okay."

He sighed deeply, "Okay."

"Jack was right here when I woke up, and he doesn't seem so worried anymore. It's okay."

"Okay," he said again, sitting closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I was scared," he admitted, "I didn't know what would happen to you. Sawyer said you just collapsed."

"I'm okay now. We'll talk about it later, okay? I'm kind of tired now – and you don't look too lively yourself." Hope smiled at him, grateful for his care.

"Yeah, I had a big day." he laughed, "Taking care of my sick girlfriend, you know."

"Your girlfriend, huh?" He had never used the word before, and Hope found that she was comforted to hear it.

"Well, yeah. You're my girlfriend, right? Or do I have to ask you first, before I can start calling you that?" Boone joked.

"Was that you asking?"

"I guess so – is it okay?"

"Yeah," Hope smiled, "It's kind of young and corny, but I like it."

Boone smiled and kissed her forehead, "Okay then."

"…they married and lived happily ever after." Walt quoted from the book, and Hope smiled at the timing.

As the others all prepared to sleep, Hope began telling Boone her own story.

"And then we crashed here." she finished, a while later. It wasn't quite 'happily ever after', but it was what she had to work with.

"So, do you think your dad caught the bad guys?" Boone asked as she finished.

"I guess he must have, or why would I be going back to America?"

Boone nodded his agreement. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know." Hope sighed, saying thoughtfully, "He must have arrested the guys and got a court date, and everything, but without a witness they might have gotten away with it. It depends on the amount of forensic evidence, I guess."

"I'm sure it turned out alright." Boone tried to encourage her.

Hope snuggled against him, putting her head on his shoulder to sleep. She was growing tired with all the thoughts that were running through her mind. She slept fitfully, but she was happy to wake in the morning without the gunshot she had become so used to.

In the afternoon she travelled back to the beach with her old notebook in hand, looking for a friend.

"Hi," she greeted him with a small smile, and he gestured for her to enter and join him as he sunbaked.

"What do you want, Peaches?" Sawyer smiled, growing more and more used to her company.

"I want to see you."

"Oh yeah?" he laughed, trying to hide his relief that she had recovered quickly from her collapse the day before.

"I wanted to say thankyou." Hope began, dropping the notebook and sitting close to him on the sand as they basked in the sun. "Jack told me how you carried me all the way to the caves, but it's not just that. The badge you returned to me really helped me figure everything out. I know you didn't give it to me just because of story time. I know you don't really care what we think about you."

"Whose is the badge?" Sawyer asked, and Hope realised that for all of his involvement, she had never explained anything to him. She felt bad about that.

"It was my dad's. He was a cop. Well, he probably still is a cop. He found out that a bunch of guys he worked with were making deals with the bad guys, and he was going to tell. They shot my mom as a threat to keep him quiet, and he sent me to Sydney because I was the only witness."

"You saw some guys shoot your mom?" Sawyer was impressed with her ability to handle that, yet strangely disturbed by her detachment.

"Yeah," she sighed deeply, "I finally remember their faces, and there's nothing I can do about it. I drew them in my notebook, but I could be here for the rest of my life, so nobody else will see them, and these guys will go on making dirty deals and shooting the people who get in the way."

Sawyer looked thoughtful, and then stood to take something out of a suitcase.

"Here," he handed her a champagne bottle with a screw top.

"I don't get it," Hope took the bottle, and looked at it from all directions.

"You put a message in it, and send it out to sea." Sawyer spoke slowly, as though she was brain damaged, and Hope smiled until she realised that he was serious. "Tear out the pages with their pictures on them with a page about what they did, and send it out to sea. See if it gets to someone useful. It's not fool-proof, but it's the closest we've got to email around here."

Hope laughed, "You don't really believe that will work?"

Sawyer scorned, "I don't know, Peaches, and we'll probably never know if we don't get the hell off this island. But what's the harm? Might make you feel better."

Hope looked at him hard, finally seeing something other than a stubborn troublemaker trying to make their lives hell. He wasn't really the devil that she had once thought.

She picked up her notebook and flipped through the pages of her old life. She tore out four pages, each baring the sketch of a man's face, and another which had her writing on it. It was an entry in the book about the day her mother died, telling everything that these men had done – all the crimes they had committed, as far as she knew. She rolled the pages up and put them into the bottle.

She stared at the bottle for a moment, and then flipped through the book again. She tore out the page with the sketch of her father's badge, writing "My Father – Please Contact" on the top with a pen that Sawyer handed her. She rolled up this page too, and slipped it in among the others.

Sawyer stood with her as Hope screwed the top onto the bottle and headed towards the ocean.

"Go ahead, Peaches," he said, urging her on.

He and Hope faced the waves, soaking their pant-legs as they walked into the water. When they were waist-deep, Sawyer nodded, and Hope threw the bottle as far out to sea as she could.

"Think it'll get there?" she asked as they watched the bottle bobbing over waves.

"I think it'll get where it needs to be," Sawyer replied, walking slowly back towards the shore.

"Hey Sawyer," Hope stopped him when they were knee-deep in white-water, "Thanks for everything."

Sawyer laughed ironically, making his way through the water and back onto the sand. He winked at her, saying softly with a hint of smirk, "Shut the hell up, Peaches. You'll ruin my 'all-important bad-boy image'."


End file.
